


Duty Bound

by siennna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Difficult Decisions, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, POV Draco Malfoy, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siennna/pseuds/siennna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco was abundantly aware that his parents wouldn’t understand why he was so opposed to the idea of marrying Astoria, who, in their eyes, was beautiful, well-endowed, and would make the perfect addition to the Malfoy family. He understood this, he really did. </p><p>But what they didn’t know, what they would hopefully never know, was that his heart wasn’t his to give. Because somehow along the way, a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor snatched the organ straight from his chest and made it her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere, buried deep within my archives, there was a TON of half-finished dramione fanfic, which is where I found this little gem. I've been so wrapped up in my beloved TV shows that I haven't written ANY harry potter fan fiction in months, which is so not cool because Harry Potter was my gate (-way drug) into the fandom world in the first place and should be honored as such. 
> 
> SO here's a dramione fic I just finished! (after letting it just sit there for a year...) 
> 
> enjoy!

* * *

It was eight in the morning and Narcissa felt splendid.

The joy that seized her heart upon waking could have been attributed to the excellent weather or perhaps the delicious smell of breakfast that had greeted her like sweet perfume; or perhaps it was due to her giddy recollection of the new dress Lucius had purchased for her—a beautiful, gold-infused silk gown, dripping with opulent jewels and trimmed with extremely rare _Moussaieff Red Diamonds_ , hailing all the way from Brazil. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned contently.

Whatever the cause, Narcissa awoke feeling magnificent.

It wasn't until she had descended the winding staircase, donning one of her gauzy, chiffon dresses, that she recognized the root of her pleasure; Draco was to meet his possible wife this evening! Merlin, how had a matter of such importance nearly slipped her mind? She immediately found herself grinning. Her heart positively _bloomed_ with excitement as she thought of the night's affairs in more detail.

Tonight's guests were none other than the renowned and _very_ affluent Greengrasses. It had taken ages for Narcissa to get Lady Greengrass to even _consider_ the notion of unifying with the Malfoy household, as both of her daughters were very beautiful and therefore had many eagerly awaiting, well-endowed suitors. This wasn't to say the Malfoys themselves weren't extremely well-off—they certainly had their own wealth to boast of—but Narcissa knew the price for securing Astoria for Draco would be hefty. According to the latest gossip, the eldest daughter, Daphne, had recently married one of the richest pureblooded men in Scotland: a dashing young man from the prestigious Selwyn family. Rumor claimed that he won her parents' favor by presenting Lady Greengrass with one of the eleven fragments of the Cullinan Diamond, _the largest diamond ever discovered_. Narcissa was almost certain that the woman would wear the grand jewel to their meeting tonight, as a not-so-subtle reminder of what it would take to win them over and how much _others_ were willing to offer if they couldn't manage to do so.

From her perch on the top stair, Narcissa surveyed the manor and decided that it would take more than its typical state of luxury to woo the Greengrasses. She forwent breakfast entirely and instead spent the rest of the morning ordering the house elves to organize _this_ or polish _those_ or make _that_ look impeccable, all the while trying to think of more ways to elevate the estate's appearance and make their wealth as obvious as possible. By noon she had expressed their riches in every way imaginable, short of leaving stacks of galleons on the furniture.

She was adjusting an exquisite ruby-encrusted vase–which had to be facing a certain way for the sun to properly flatter the gems–when she heard Lucius join her in the parlor.

She turned and immediately broke into a warm smile. "Good morning, love. As you can see," she said, making a sweeping gesture across the room, "I've made sure our home is _more_ than presentable for our guests this evening."

He returned her smile and crossed the room to plant a kiss on her forehead, eyes sparkling with affection. "Yes, I certainly can see. Excellent job, darling." He enveloped her in a strong embrace, his chin resting on the top of her head. The reason for his sudden intimacy—aside from the obvious fact that he enjoyed being in close proximity of his wife—was because he needed a few moments to decide how he should tell her the unfortunate news.

He, like Narcissa, was extremely relieved that the Greengrasses finally decided to give them a chance at marrying Astoria into the family. In doing so they would be able to kill an entire _flock_ of birds with one stone; Draco would be married – no more loose ends – Astoria's dowry would expand their riches to an even greater amount, and the prestige and distinction that would come from the unification of two of the most dignified families in the Wizarding world would be so utterly _vast_ that he could hardly wrap his mind around it.

And it was well within reach too; Narcissa had done her part in convincing Sienna Greengrass over deceptively causal cups of tea and cakes in the past year, and was helping even more with her clever idea of decorating their manor with all of the rich possessions a humbler person might keep stowed away (he'd heard about the Cullinan fragment and humble was the _last_ thing they needed to be)

Lucius had contributed as well; for many months he'd made offhanded remarks to Edwin Greengrass about how prosperous his family's enterprise would be should it pair with another name of equal merit. Of course, he never out-right said _Malfoy,_ but it was implied, and judging by Edwin's consistent agreement with Lucius' statements, the man was on board with the idea as well.

It had seemed as if nothing stood between Draco and Astoria's marriage. That was, at least, until Lucius spoke to his son moments ago.

Gently he released his wife and held her at arm's distant, hands clamped securely onto her petite shoulders to steady her should she faint at the news. She immediately noticed his cautious expression and looked at him questioningly, "Lucius, dear, what is it?"

He gritted his teeth and sighed. "I talked to Draco this morning to see if he was adequately prepared with the proper clothing and mannerisms, what to say and what to politely ignore, how to actually perform the proposal …" He babbled on, dreading the moment he would arrive at his point. "But he quickly made it apparent that he will… _not_ be entertaining Miss Greengrass this evening."

Her previously concerned expression froze onto her face, incomprehension dawning to understanding before shattering in absolute horror. " _He isn't entertaining her?_ Surely he didn't mean he won't be proposing to her…?"

Lucius remained silent. If he dared to say a word, one of two things would happen; Narcissa, in her already fragile state, would lose her mind and faint, or worse, _he'd_ lose his mind and start yelling like a mad man because of his son's stupidity and selfishness. He was surprised he'd managed not to wring Draco's neck the instance he flippantly announced that he wouldn't be joining the festivities.

And, yes, that was what Draco had called tonight; _festivities._

Narcissa closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing smooth and relaxed. After a moment of composure, she swiftly made her way to the staircase, staring up at Draco's room with determination, "Darling, I'll speak to him. Surely he is just being difficult and moody, as usual."

She wrung her hands the whole way up and tried to convince herself this was the case.

On the other side of the manor, holed up in his spacious, green and silver room, Draco Malfoy sulked. Despite the many sources of entertainment that surrounded him – games, miniature Quidditch players, and so on – he found himself staring at a blank wall, biting his lip to shreds. It was as if the stress of what awaited him in mere hours was causing all of his former bad habits to stir; five minutes into deep contemplation and he was biting his lips, chewing his nails to stubs, and shaking his leg like a mad man. When his parents delivered the news of his upcoming engagement weeks ago, he'd smiled and nodded as was expected of him. Since then, however, the idea had been festering in his head and driving him mad. It was as if the world no longer made any sense.

The only thing he knew for certain was that he would _not_ be engaged to Astoria Greengrass tomorrow.

Feeling restless, he rose from his bed and began pacing in front of an open window. Draco was abundantly aware that he was being unreasonable and knew his parents wouldn't understand why he was so opposed to the idea of marrying Astoria, who, in their eyes, was a beautiful, well-endowed, pureblooded girl who would make the perfect wife and addition to the Malfoy family. He understood this, he really did.

But what they didn't know, what they would hopefully _never_ know, was that his heart wasn't his to give. Because somehow, some way, a certain bushy-haired, buck-toothed, _beautiful_ , Gryffindor snatched the organ straight from his chest and made it her own.

If he was honest with himself, he'd always had at least a mild interest in her, though never enough to act upon. She was annoying because she was a know it all and useless because she was a Gryffindor, but once he actually spoke with her, sans derogatory names, he found the conversation stimulating and interesting. Which, given his track record of ditzy airheads, came as quite the shock.

The manner in which he fell for her was neither slow nor gradual; it was _all-encompassing_ and _sudden,_ and it felt as if he were drowning in the complete _vastness_ of it half the time. There was something utterly charming about how she nibbled the end of her quill in thought or the way she yawned when she was tired, sweet and innocent like an exhausted kitten.

He cringed and pressed his forehead to the glass in a vain attempt to cool his flushed cheeks. The mere fact that Granger could inspire such ridiculous thoughts was proof enough that he loved her.

The sad part in all of this—the truly _tragic_ bit—was that he knew he couldn't be with her. At best, she could perhaps act as his mistress once he married a pureblooded woman, but he knew she had a great amount of self respect and would deem herself worth more than a secret affair. And even if, for some reason, she _didn't_ , Draco himself held her in too high of an esteem to allow such a thing to transpire.

Back at Hogwarts, as their sixth year had drawn to a close, he realized that he would return the next year either engaged or disowned. The latter, of course, would be the result of his refusal to marry the Greengrass girl, which was something he only planned on doing if Hermione confessed that she loved him back. On the last day, he pulled her aside and pressed his lips to hers for a few chaste seconds, because he couldn't bear the thought of leaving for an entire summer without at least letting her know how he felt.

Weeks later, he could still recall the round, pink "O" of her lips, the surprise glossing her chocolate-colored eyes, and that softly spoken " _Oh my"_. There were exactly six seconds of utter silence and it felt like the longest stretch of time he'd ever endured. Just when he was about to mutter an apology, sulk away, and start trying to forget her, she said, " _That's not a proper kiss, you git"_ before leaning in, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and crushing her mouth to his in a kiss that completely blew his mind. For a few seconds he was so shocked by her unexpected brazenness that he just stood there, stiff as a board, wondering absently if it was a dream.

Then she flicked her tongue against his bottom lip and he immediately came to his senses.

Without the slightest hesitation, he weaved his fingers into her wild hair and pressed her mouth to his even harder, feeling every ounce of desire that had been building up over the year flood through him like a wave. " _I love you,"_ He gasped in between kisses, peppering her jaw and neck with small pecks. " _I really, really do, Granger."_

And when she'd hurriedly responded back, " _I love you too"_ cheeks flushed and rosy lips parted, he felt something shift inside of him, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

It was at that moment he knew he couldn't marry Astoria or any other witch, to be perfectly honest. He'd hastily explained his situation, the nature of Astoria's upcoming visit, and what it would mean for him; what it would mean for _them._ She was, of course, distressed, but understood when he said they couldn't be seen together. He made sure she knew that it was not due to lasting prejudices on his part, but because of the traditions and inflexible institutions of his family. She forgave him, like she always did, and kissed him one last time before bidding farewell, eyes big and sad and full of _goodbye._ Before she left he made sure to grab her wrist and tell her that he'd try to figure out some way to avoid the engagement. He promised to write, and she smiled crookedly and said the same. When she finally left, he watched her go and didn't look away until she was a speck in the distance.

So, where did that leave him today?

It left him slumped against his window, feeling hollow and despondent, wishing with all his might that the Greengrasses would have a sudden change of heart and decide _not_ to attend tonight's affairs. With a disheartened sigh he wondered what Hermione was doing right then…

Just as he was contemplating sneaking from the manor and finding out for himself, Narcissa threw the door open dramatically. (His plan _was_ rather ridiculous, so perhaps it was a good thing his mother interrupted him before it could fully form)

" _Draco Abraxas Malfoy, how dare you tell your father you will not be proposing to Astoria!"_ Her typically smooth voice was devoid of all elegance and restraint. His mother rarely yelled–she deemed it unladylike–but seemed to have made this instance an exception, as she was currently screeching like a harpy. " _Do you know what lengths your father and I have gone to just to get you this audience? Astoria is a beautiful girl with a lovely family and you should be_ thanking _us for arranging such a pleasant union!"_

His only response was stunned silence.

She let go of the doorknob that had been under her white-knuckled and sighed wearily, taking a moment to compose herself. "Draco. Dear, _why?"_

He sat down on his bed, seemingly deaf to her question, and stared down at his hands. If he refused to marry Astoria, his parents would surely disown him, or at the very least force him to marry a girl of equal status but considerably less physical appeal, as punishment. Either way he would lose. Even if he somehow managed to make it through the summer without becoming engaged, then where would that leave him and Hermione? His relationship with her would have to be all or nothing: marriage or less than acquaintances. Because, unfortunately, they did not have the luxury of that flirtatious, shy period couples tend to have before actually committing, in which both people know they're in love but enjoy pretending otherwise in that silly little dance. If they decided to be together, it would have to be no less than a permanent commitment, as he would be risking _everything_ to be with her. On the opposite side of the spectrum, if he decided against that giant leap of faith, stowed his feelings deep down, and married Astoria because it was the right thing to do, he wouldn't be able to bear the sight of Hermione and would therefore be forced to estrange her.

( _Because if he had to look into those honey-colored eyes and stare at those petal-pink lips, he'd be in complete agony knowing she could never be his)_

Was he really willing to risk so much on one girl? Albeit, that one girl was beautiful and radiant in every possible way, but he still had so much he wanted to do in life before being kicked out on his own and locked into a serious relationship.

He breathed heavily. He needed time to think; he needed to _stall._

"My apologies, mother, I understand the error of my ways and I'll speak to father immediately to make amends for my insolence. I indeed plan on proposing to Astoria this evening."

She stared at her son, clearly confused. Mere moments ago Lucius had told her that Draco refused to marry the girl, and now he was not only apologizing, but promising to propose as well? She decided he must have been in a very precarious mental state – perhaps from schoolwork, or the stressful notion of marriage – and it would be best to simply accept his words as truth and leave before her prolonged presence made him change his mind yet again.

With an appeased smile, Narcissa planted a kiss on his cheek, eyes once again alight and joyful. "Excellent, my dear boy. I'll send a house elf in with your freshly-pressed outfit as well as some _delectable_ perfume that will make Astoria simply swoon!" The woman smiled and clasped her hands together excitedly before making her exit.

Draco fell back into bed with a groan, forearm covering his eyes. _This was such a damn mess._

. . .

"My, my, what a _darling_ dress, Narcissa!" Sienna Greengrass's loud, high voice carried through the spacious foyer and continued to echo long after her red lips closed. The woman herself was small and thin, with large eyes the color of obsidian, and always appeared to be on the brink of crumbling under the weight of her extravagant jewelry. She was intimidating, despite her small stature; Narcissa herself had seen even the toughest men and cattiest women wither under her ruthless stare. She was a cold, unyielding, two-faced _wench_ with a heart of ice.

But, such were the ways of pureblooded women.

Narcissa's face immediately broke into a grin and she leaned forward to gracefully kiss the air before her guest's cheeks. "Oh, Sienna, dear, you look marvelous as well! Lucius had this gown imported from _Brazil,"_ She gave the dress a small twirl to showcase the beautiful crimson diamonds glittering on its hem. " _Moussaieff Red Diamonds,"_ She explained, beaming with pride. "Extremely rare, you know. They can only be found in the heart of _Sao Paulo_ ,"

Lady Greengrass smiled, though not with her eyes, and gave the other woman a patronizing look. "Oh, yes, very nice, dear. I've vacationed in _Sao Paulo_ before, but have found that _Rio de Janeiro_ is a far superior Brazilian city. And as for the red diamonds, I have a few bracelets made entirely of them myself, though I suppose they look nice on a dress too," She causally extended her arms as if stretching, though it was obvious the gesture was meant to show off the rubies and emeralds dripping from her wrists.

"Those are lovely," Narcissa commented, once she realized the woman would not lower her arm until something was said.

Sienna flashed a grin and peered over Narcissa's shoulder, "Where is Draco? I haven't seen him in about a year and I'm rather curious as to what he looks like now-"

Whatever she saw over Narcissa's shoulder caused her to take pause, and her curious expression was quickly replaced by something decidedly _hungrier._ "Lucius! Darling, Lucy! I haven't seen you in ages; I did not think it was possible, but somehow you've become even more handsome!" Narcissa forgotten, she glided over to Lucius and wrapped him in suffocating hug that lasted a few beats longer than either Malfoy was comfortable with.

He smiled politely down on her, but from the faint flush staining his cheekbones, his wife could tell he was quite uneasy.

Even though Lucius had grown up showered with female attention, once he married Narcissa, that once-familiar boyish charm and ease disappeared for anyone other than his wife. In fact, he became uncomfortable and disheveled at even the _smallest_ gesture of female interest. _Like a shy little boy_ , Narcissa thought with a slight smile. She would've giggled at his discomfort because she found it sweet that he had eyes for only her, but didn't want it to be misconstrued as mockery.

Meanwhile, Sienna was running her fingers through his long hair, staring at the silken strands with wonderstruck eyes; "Lucy, your _hair_ is a masterpiece! Not as much so as these cheekbones, of course," she patted one appreciatively, "but certainly a close-runner up." While she examined the material of his coat in a poorly veiled attempt to stroke his chest, he desperately mouthed " _Where is her husband?"_ to Narcissa.

Just as she was about to peer out of the opened door and see for herself, Edwin Greengrass entered the foyer with his daughter in tow. "Hello, Narcissa! Grand to see you, Lucius!" The man bellowed.

Edwin, like his wife, had unfathomably dark eyes and a tendency for duality, but the similarities stopped there. Whereas Sienna was bone-thin and favored oblique statements over direct confrontations, Edwin was a portly man with loud opinions and little restraint when it came to sharing them. He wasn't an ugly man and if his features weren't buried beneath rolls of cheeks and chin, he might have even been considered handsome.

Narcissa graciously took his hand to shake, using her free hand to snap her fingers for a house elf. The man shrugged his coat into the elf's arms without even turning to make sure it was there, before refocusing his attention on his beaming host. "It is lovely to see you again, Edwin," Narcissa gushed, leading him and his wife away from the foyer, "Lucius will take you to the sitting room where our elves have prepared a lovely array of hors d'oeuvres. I'll join you in a moment."

Astoria remained in the foyer, a small white purse clutched in her equally petite hands, her eyes sweeping the manor in interest. Narcissa felt a small surge of success that the Greengrasses had left their daughter alone, as this was the _perfect_ opportunity for Draco swoop in and charm her. In the back of her mind, a small voice complained that he wouldn't comply, as seen by the difficulties of this morning, but she quickly hushed it.

She smiled at the girl. "Astoria, you look positively splendid in that dress." It was light and airy, made of white chiffon infused with gold or diamonds of some sort, and accompanied by a beautiful tiered necklace. The dark haired girl smiled graciously and thanked her.

"Will Draco be down soon?" She asked, and Narcissa's heart positively _soared_ at the sparkle of eagerness in her eyes.

"Yes, dear, in fact he should be here any-"

"I'm right here, Mother," Draco called from the top stair. Narcissa beamed and squeezed the girl's shoulder encouragingly, "You two will get along splendidly. Us adults will be in the sitting room, but you kids feel free to have fun," She afforded one last look of joy, before heading to the next room to save poor Lucius from entertaining their guests alone.

"Good evening, Astoria, you look absolutely breathtaking,"

Draco slowly descended the staircase, eyes locked unflinchingly on hers like a predator stocking its prey. At the last step he bowed before her, but when he rose once again he took his time raking his eyes along her figure.

"Th- thank you, it's lovely to see you as well," she stuttered, flushing down to her roots. She extended her hand to shake, but he lifted it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her skin instead.

She looked as if she might faint.

Without skipping a beat, he smoothly offered to give her a tour of the Manor, to which she eagerly replied, _"Yes, of course!"_ It was so easy to win over girls, he thought to himself, _especially_ pureblooded girls.

He was more than aware that his competition was rich, but what they had in wealth, they lacked in appearance. He'd seen the other pureblooded blokes currently searching for wives, and they were nothing to look twice at. Astoria, despite her exterior beauty, most likely had never been openly flirted with or charmed by an attractive boy, and would therefore be putty in his hands.

The only question was: what should he do with that power?

He already knew he felt nothing for the girl at his side, whose hip his hand was currently curled around, but his parents couldn't know that. He'd have to pretend to like her, feign attraction and charm, just enough to get Lucius and Narcissa off his back. After that, who knew what would happen.

"What a lovely chandelier! It looks as if it would be at home in a grand ballroom," she commented in wonder, eyes fixated on the large glittering decoration. He chuckled and smiled disarmingly, though it didn't reach his eyes (not that she noticed).

"Ah, yes. Imported from a quaint little town in France. You know what would make it look even more splendid?" he asked, eyebrow quirked flirtatiously.

"Er…what?" She questioned, blushing from the lower timbre of his voice.

"Well, like you said, it looks as if it belongs in some palatial hall; therefore, shouldn't we do it justice by at least dancing beneath it?" He watched her with a roguish smirk and extended his hand, "Dance with me, Astoria Greengrass."

She all but died on the spot. "O-ok…yes, let's."

He carefully took her petite hand in his and placed a grip on her waist, his fingers fluttering playfully over her clothed hip. At this somewhat daring move, the tips of her cheekbones went as red as her lips. He paused to pluck his wand from his pocket and cast a charm on his violin that'd been sitting nearby, so that it would play itself. He briefly contemplated which song to choose, before eventually settling on _Brandenburg Concertos,_ as it typically proved to be a crowd-pleaser.

With that decided, he began swaying to the music, twirling her with elegance even she seemed impressed by. In complex, sweeping motions, they moved across the marble floor as gracefully as the notes themselves, twisting and turning with near perfection. However, despite her adequacy, he was obviously the better dancer.

"My, Draco," she said breathlessly, still struggling to match his pace. "You're amazing!"

"Thank you," he said simply. His mother had been teaching him increasingly intricate dances since the mere age of seven, so the sweeping, complex movements of the waltz were as natural to him as breathing or walking.

As they danced, she eyed him like a love struck puppy and his mind wandered. He'd never gotten the chance to dance with Granger like this: chests pressed together and fingers interlaced as if it were the most natural thing in the world. With Astoria it didn't feel natural. None of it did: the flirting, the smiles, the dancing. It was all so orchestrated. Sure, she was lovely to the eye and probably a decent person beneath the makeup and imported dresses, but unfortunately for her, and ultimately his parents, he'd already given his heart to another; one that happened to be the _least_ attainable girl in his life, ironically.

When his gaze flickered over Astoria's adoring one, her eyes wide and eager, he once again decided that he could not marry the girl. She was too petite and pretty, like a porcelain doll that was too fragile to touch. Unfortunately, her personality was equally mild; he found himself entirely bored with her submissive, pure, thoughtless-bordering-on-stupid manner already, and he'd only known her for an hour.

He couldn't really blame her for being that way, though; such traits had been taught to her because _that's how pureblooded women should be;_ pretty little trinkets with idle thoughts and empty heads.

Maybe he was mad for not wanting that in a girl. There had to be something wrong with him, because whenever he _had_ tried to date a "proper witch" – what his father called pureblooded girls – he found himself in states of discomfort ranging from boredom to repulsion. Like Pansy, for example. On paper she was ideal; she came from a rich family, had blood just as impeccable as his own, and belonged to the only house worth anything: Slytherin. She _ought_ to have been his dream girl.

However, the brief time he spent courting her in fifth year had been sheer torture. She constantly smelled as if she'd showered in perfume, wouldn't let him go five minutes without mashing their mouths together in some grotesque (in his opinion) display of ownership, _and_ she was dumber than a brick. Also, she had a particularly annoying habit of whipping her hair in his face when she tossed it over her shoulder, obviously under the impression that he found it attractive.

Suffice to say, _he didn't._

And here he was once again; forced to entertain some equally uninteresting pureblooded witch, while both her parents and his own waited impatiently. He could practically hear Lucius harshly reminding him not to " _bugger this up",_ along with mother's tight smile and sharply nodding head, " _Yes, Draco, please don't"_.

It was rather apparent that the only way he'd be able to escape this mess unengaged – yet not disowned – would be to propose as soon as possible. Perhaps he could convince Astoria that he favored the idea of a winter wedding (because it was romantic or some rubbish), in order to give himself time to figure out what to do about his _Granger_ situation. It seemed to be a fairly decent plan, since the only alternatives were _actually_ marrying her or climbing out of his window in the dead of night and kissing his entire inheritance and comfortable life goodbye. If he looked at it that way, getting engaged and then skipping out on the wedding was the only reasonable solution. He felt himself straighten and relax a bit now that he had an idea of how to go about the situation.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He breathed, voice soft and awed, "So lovely that you almost don't seem real," he pressed their bodies closer together, dropping his hands to her hips and slowing their proper waltz to a much more casual swaying motion, allowing her petite hands to remain perched on his shoulders. He leaned in so that his mouth was inches from her ear, " _A work of art, you are."_

He could hear her gulp, could practically feel her cheeks heating up, and decided now would be the perfect moment to spring. "Astoria?" He pulled back and brushed a stray wisp of hair away from her forehead. "You think we're good together, right?"

"Yes, of course." Her voice trembled from both eagerness and anxiousness.

He grinned slowly, allowing the smile to encompass his face in increments before engulfing his entire expression in charm. In one smooth motion he reached into his pocket and procured a small, deep-green velvet box. He took her delicate, lily-white hand off his shoulder and slipped the ring onto her finger, grey eyes sparkling with false sincerity.

"Then what do you say we make it official?"

Astoria gasped and threw her arms around his neck, unable to say "Yes!" fast enough, and just like that, Draco A. Malfoy was engaged.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda a cliffhanger, right? OR is this a intentionally ambiguous one shot? Who knows; sub to make sure you see the updates when (if) they come out. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, my lovely darlings. Pretty please don't forget to review! :) 
> 
> xoxo justlikewater 
> 
> unrelated side note: has anyone read Cloud Atlas? Because it is SO damn beautiful. I'm halfway through and I cannot put it down :')


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